


Play, Pause, Repeat.

by TiaMalefica



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Divergent Timelines, Eventual Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Sometime in Season 4, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-01-06 07:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18383570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaMalefica/pseuds/TiaMalefica
Summary: Amidst all the horrible things happening with the Monster, Quentin escapes to the Clock Barrens. Jane Chatwin offers to help. In a way.(This is so complicated, it's giving me a headache.)-I'll add tags as I go-





	1. Well, hello.

Tick. Tock.  
Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

Quentin was close. Just a few steps away. The symphony of the ticking clock trees whirled around him. Another step. Tick. And another one. Tock. Step. Step. Step. Step. His feet sank on leaves and wet soil ,again and again, as he traversed through the Clock Barrens.

“Mister Coldwater? What a surprise.”

A lean, brown-haired figure called out to him. Jane Chatwin stood before him, a crooked smile on her face. Fillory’s Clock Barrens were the Watcherwoman’s turf and he knew there was a possibility she’d be there. But regardless, time magic and especially the distortion of time in the Barrens was something he could never fully perceive. Jane’s never-changing, youthful appearance was a result of that magic. The woman who’d lived through 40 different timelines didn’t look a day over thirty-five. 

It wasn’t the Jane he knew, the one that was killed by the Beast. It was a version of her, from some other timeline. Just thinking about that Schrödinger's cat situation, made him dizzy.

“I’d say nice to see you but...I don’t really know you, right?” he said.

Jane huffed pleased and crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose not. But I do know you.”

Quentin rolled his eyes. “Doubtful.” He took a step away from her and sat on the ground, resting his chin on his knees. “Hell if I know who I am anymore.”

“Oh, I see. You’ve messed something up, so you decided to escape here.”

“I didn’t-”, he sighed, “Sure, whatever.”

She gave him a small smile and sat next to him, much to his dismay. He didn’t exactly hate Jane Chatwin but well, he didn’t like her either. She carefully tucked her black skirt over and under her legs as she settled on the ground.

“I’m not shaming you for running away, Quentin. It would be wise to say then that you don’t wanna talk about it?”

With a stone face he turned to her and sighed once more. “Which part? The part about the world possibly ending again or the part about me and my friends being the ones to suffer through a situation like this again?”

“So, you do want to talk about it.”

“Nothing to talk about. The whole multiverse is a warzone and we are, once again, in the epicentre of it all. Like, why the fuck does it always have to be us? Why do these unbelievably terrible things keep happening to us? A semi-normal life would be nice to have, you know?” 

He threw his hands up in desperation. It was the first time he’d ever voiced that thought to anyone, even to himself. 

“Semi-normal? Oh, you mean you want the married life, the white picket fence, the dogs, the kids but...magic as well?” Jane said sounding almost entertained and worried at the same time.

“I don’t know? Maybe? I certainly fucking deserve it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, magic is great! More that great! But why is it that others get to enjoy it and a select few of Brakebills students have to rule kingdoms, fight monsters and gods and even die for it?”

“You know why, Quentin. You are special.”

He didn’t like that. He really didn’t. “Well, fuck that. Everything is j-just so fucked up!”

“How about this. Do you want me to tell you about your other lives?” she offered.

“I know what happened in my other...lives, Jane. Spoiler alert, I die young. By being killed by the Beast. Or becoming the Beast myself.”

“True. For the most part.”

“Jane I don’t have time for games-”

“No games, Quentin,” she interupted, “I’m serious. There was this one timeline in particular...quite a grim reality. But you lived a very different life there.”

“Let me guess. I spent my whole life in a psych ward. The end?”

“Far from it, actually.”

He snorted dramatically in disbelief, holding back a bitter laugh.

“Shocker right? It’s true. Would you like to hear about it? It might brighten your mood a bit!” She seemed genuinely concerned now. “I’d be easier if I showed you, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

 

She propped the small pocket watch resting on her hip, in the palm of her right hand.  
“This is a miraculous little trinket. As you already know by now, it helps manipulate time. But that’s not all it does. It also stores information from all the magic that it creates.”

“I--uh--I’m confused.”

“Well. Let me try to explain this. If you think of this watch as a video-sharing platform, the timelines created are videos and horomancy is the filming process. And all you need to do to replay a video is push a little button.”

“You-” he mumbled, stunned, “-can’t be serious.” Unbelievable. Jane Chatwin had just made an analogy with time magic and YouTube. Just the thought of the Watcherwoman spending time surfing on the internet between Beast-hunting and timeline resetting was enough to bring a smile on Quentin’s face.

“I most certainly am. It’s fairly simple. Although, not exactly the same thing as watching a video.”

“What’s the catch?” Quentin wondered, momentarily. He knew all too well how complicated time manipulation was.

“Not a catch, per se. You see, in order to review a timeline, you have to immerse yourself in it. And that can be a bit of an odd experience”

“I’ve time-travelled before. I know what it’s like, Jane.”

“Oh, no. That’s the thing. This is not time travel. It’s a timeline...viewing. You can’t change anything and you also can’t affect anything. I’ve used that function a lot, trying to figure out what to change each time I reset the timelines. But like I said, the analogy is a bit flawed. Because you can’t just watch from afar when viewing your timeline.”

“You said...you have to immerse yourself in it?”

She nodded. “You have to experience it through your own body. Which you’d have no control of. Your thoughts would still be yours but that’s about it. Every move, every word you say-”

“Wow. You’re right that is weird. I never liked first-person RPGs.”

Jane tilted her head to him as her eyebrows came together. So she knew about Youtube but not about games. Fair enough, that made sense.

“I wanna try it.”

“Excellent!” 

“But I don’t have time for it. I have a world to save, friends to exorcise.”

“Don’t be silly Quentin. You are in the Clock Barrens.”

“So?”

“Here’s a little secret Mr. Coldwater: Time here, is an illusion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with more fic!  
> This is a shower thought that randomly came to me the other day.  
> Hope you like it Fillory Fam♥


	2. Leap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin's first jump. He lands on his butt.

“Alright, instructions.”

Jane and Quentin rose from the ground. She took the pocket watch in her hand and began casting. She tapped the watch and then twisted her palm up and down a few times. She continued by curling random fingers up in a come-hither motion following a certain sequence. One, then three, then two, then one again then...Quentin couldn’t keep up. She was quick, moving her hand rhythmically around. When she was seemingly done, she popped the crown up and beckoned Quentin to hold the pocket watch.

“Jump-Roping is simple. Again think of it as a video. You can rewind, fast forward, skip and even stop watching.”

Jump-Roping. That’s what she chose to call timeline viewing. Weird, but very Jane-like.

“How do I do that?” he asked. She really made it sound too easy.

“I’ve set up the timeline for you. All you have to do is focus on a moment you wanna go to, be it the first time you had sex, the worst fight you ever had with your best friend, the moment you died or anything you want to see. Approximate dates work as well. As long as you can think it, the watch will take you there. But don’t be too vague.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes. But. Remember, if it gets too...overwhelming for you, all you have to do is think the thought and you’re out. That’s it.”

“Huh,” is all he had to say to that.

Jane clapped her hands in front of her and gave him a smile. “Great. When you are ready, just push the crown in. And happy Jumping!” she added with plenty of enthusiasm.

Finally, Quentin nodded and pushed all his worries out of his mind.

Click.

 

#

Hot drip coffee with a hint of whiskey filled his mouth.

_This is bizarre. I even have sensory memory here. But where is ‘here’, exactly?_

QuentinX, which is what Quentin40 had automatically named his alter ego, was sitting in a diner. If it wasn’t for plates and cups clunking around him, the place would be dead silent. Eerily so. He turned to the window next to his booth, and looked around.The sun was setting and the street lights were already on. A few people on the other side of the street hurried about. A flock of pigeons landed on some traffic lights. Cars went by. Nothing eventful was going on. 

Quentin40 was perplexed. He studied his reflection on the window glass; QuentinX seemed to be around his age but he looked...strange. He was wearing winter clothes, clean ones, his hair was long but tidy and he seemed almost happy. Maybe not happy; more like he had his shit together. 

A bell chimed sweetly as a new customer entered the diner. QuentinX took another sip of his coffee and turned to a tap on his shoulder. Quickly followed by a kiss on top of his head. So it was definitely not the waitress.

He was right. It wasn’t a waitress. It was Eliot Waugh, his friend, his lover, his-  
No, he reminded himself. This is not Eliot. Not his Eliot. This was a fake. A very beautiful one, but a fake nonetheless. His Eliot was currently possessed by a childlike, murderous Monster.

He felt a smile forming on his face as EliotX took a seat opposite him at the booth. The actual waitress swooped in this time, bringing some water and cups for the new customer.

“What can I get ya?” she asked EliotX. She was short, with long, blonde hair braided carefully around her head. Very pretty. And she was staring at him.

She was checking him out. A small pang of jealousy hit Quentin out of nowhere. And seeing as his other self regarded her so carefully, the feeling was mutual. But who could blame her, really? Eliot always looked good. Even in this reality, with his long, dark curls in a ponytail, his scruffy stubble and his very casual clothing, he looked good. God, it was a romantic comedy, not an alternate timeline.

“Coffee is fine,” he said, snapping both Quentins out of their thoughts. The waitress nodded kindly and left to bring more coffee. 

“You know,” he continued, now facing Quentin, “when I said we should ‘go out’, this is not what I meant.”

QuentinX smiled again. “I like it here. It’s so quiet.”

“Too quiet,” the other Eliot corrected. 

“Well, I like quiet. It’s nice for a change.”

That seemed to alarm Eliot. He frowned deeply and took a sip of water. “Come on, we said we wouldn’t talk about that tonight.”

“How can I not? The Ministry is always up you ass, El. I don’t like it.”

_The Ministry? Are we in a Harry-Potter spin-off then?_

With impeccable timing, the pretty waitress came back and filled Eliot’s cup.

“Jealous?” he joked, finally sipping on his coffee.

“Eliot…”

“Quentin…” Eliot mirrored him like a child.

“El, I’m serious. You have to be extra careful these days. They’ve doubled the monitors everywhere. Even in rural areas. It’s insane!”

Eliot reached out and grabbed the panicked Quentin’s hand. “I am careful. It’s not my fault your best friend is obsessed with me. She does know we’re dating, right?”

“Okay, okay. I see you’re not in the mood for a serious conversation.”

“Wherever did you get that idea?”

“Eliot, Julia’s just looking out for you. For all of us. You know that, right?”

“Honestly, Q? I like Julia. I’ve liked her since Brakebills. Even if she was a huge nerd.” Eliot let out a deep sigh. He sank back at his seat slowly, still holding his cup. The steam of the piping hot beverage fogged his glasses, though he didn’t seem to mind. “But I can’t tell where her loyalties lie anymore.”

QuentinX gasped audibly at the comment. As he turned away from Eliot and faced the window, Quentin saw the strangest look on his face. He was angry. At Eliot.

“We’ve been through this. You know she wasn’t given a choice. None of them were. They had to join the Ministry.”

A long pause.

“They were given a choice.”

QuentinX’s eyes widened. As he turned back to Eliot, he saw him chin down, almost as if he was regretting his words. Big time. “You can’t be serious!” Quentin immediately snapped. “Are you actually suggesting what I think you are?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you are trying to tell me that they should have all died ‘for the cause’, just like Fogg tried to do, then no, you don’t. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He was shaking. His breathing quickened and blood rushed up his face.

_Dean Fogg tried to--what? What the hell is going on in this timeline?_

“Fogg’s fine.” 

Eliot spoke slowly. His face was painted in guilt. Even Quentin, watching all this unfold without understanding much, knew that. He’d seen that face before. It was the face his Eliot also wore when he knew he had been out of line. And usually in moments like those, knowing he’d already dug his own grave, he would fully commit. Never taking it back. Never apologising. He’d just go with it. That was exactly what this Eliot was doing. Instead of biting his tongue when he knew he should, he just kept going.

“Are you really playing dumb with me, El? That’s not the point!”

“Q, I really don’t wanna fight with you over this again.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know. I bet if Margo was a Ministry agent, this conversation would have been very different.”

_Uh-oh. A ‘my friend/ your friend’ quarrel? Crap._

“Oh, now I’m the hypocrite? Look in the mirror once in a while, will you?”

“What?”

_Crap._

Now was Eliot’s turn to be angry. And boy, was he ever. “You keep saying how realistic you wanna be about everything. Love, friendship, all this shit about the Ministry and magic...But you’re lying to yourself, Q. You want reality? THIS is your reality!”, he gestured around them, “I, am your reality. And guess what, reality’s a bitch but that’s what we’ve got right now.” He took a big gulp of his coffee.  
“At least we are doing something about it. And it might not matter to you but it matters to me.” He was angry. And yet not once did he raise his voice at QuentinX. He didn’t have to. His feelings and thoughts on the matter were heard, loud and clear.

“Thanks for the coffee.” He stood up and put his coat on. “Call me when you’ve calmed down. Or Kady, I don’t care. Don’t wait for me back home. I need some air.”

Walking past Quentin, he lingered there next to him for a couple of seconds. QuentinX didn’t acknowledge that, but Quentin also felt it. And then he left. 

Quentin was...what had Jane called it? Overwhelmed? Understatement of the century. But he couldn’t leave just yet. He had to know more. About this timeline, the mysterious Ministry and what was happening with his friends. And Eliot.

“Just try not to die.”

It was his voice, he recognised it. A soft whisper that echoed loudly in Quentin’s heart.  
He knew what to do now. He had to go back. Way back. He found himself wanting to fix things again. But this time, in this timeline, it didn’t matter. Because all he could really do, was watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it possible to hurt your own feeling when writting down your own fanfic? Yes. Yes, it is.  
> I have a feeling this is gonna be a long one. So many things to write.
> 
> Clarification: I'm gonna be using the X next to the character names in moments where Quentin40 is making the distinction in his brain. Hope you don't get too confused, lol. 
> 
> What did you think of that fight? Any guesses as to what's going on?
> 
> (Oh, and you can find some fanart on my Tumblr-> tiamaleficaart)


	3. Run devil, run.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We want a story that starts out with an earthquake and works its way up to a climax."-Samuel Goldwyn.

Take me where it all began, Quentin thought. Vague again, but he didn't have time to reconsider. Space warped around him and he found himself on a patch of grass. Sharp pain radiated from his right arm and leg. QuentinX turned to inspect the source of the pain and saw tender, scratched up skin covering his forearm. As he lingered there for a moment, Quentin turned his attention to what he was hearing: screaming, running, chaos. His other self finally lifted his head and allowed him see what was actually going on.

_Brakebills. I'm in Brakebills._

In the middle of the courtyard he sat there, with hundreds of frenzied students running past him--and even over him--towards something. Or away from it. There was shouting, shoving and crying. The ground was shaking. It was like an earthquake drill gone bad.

“Coldwater I swear-”

A familiar voice echoed loudly through the crowd and QuentinX slowly got up from the ground, with wobbly legs barely keeping him up. His head and tailbone were also sore, Quentin noticed. A bad fall.

“Move your ass. Move!” The same voice spoke again, only closer to him. A strong, female hand grabbed onto him and led him swiftly on his feet and away. 

“But Julia, she’s-”

“Penny’s on it. Quentin, we need to go, now,” a different voice demanded, as another hand gripped his other arm and continued to lead him away from the main building. 

Quentin was disoriented by the screams and the running but managed to recognise Margo and Eliot as the people carrying him through the crowd. 

“There you are! Hurry!” Dean Fogg, looking exactly how Quentin remembered him, was standing next to a big portal on the far end of campus grounds. Eyes hard and focused, arms swaying in the air in circles, casting up a storm. Quentin had never seen anything like it: Purple and golden bulbs of light swirled around in a large circle as students kept disappearing through it. He had read about this; a kind of built-in campus escape door only the Dean could open for emergency evacuations. Things were bad.

“Do you have your cloaking spells ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now hurry. The portal will take you somewhere safe.”

“Dean Fogg-” There was urgency and concern in QuentinX's voice as the words trailed off. 

“Now, Quentin! Go!” The Dean's voice mirrored his concern as he continued to cast, holding the large portal open for the students.

QuentinX hesitated in front of it. Glancing back and forth between his friends and Brakebills, an impatient growl escaped his throat. He took a deep breath and grabbed Eliot and Margo's hands, leaping through the spinning lights of the portal.

#

“What...is this place?”

The room slowly materialized before them: There was a couch, then a kitchen table, walls and the rest. Realisation hit Quentin hard, as he took his surroundings in. 

“This is my dad’s place. It was anyway.”

“Your dad’s place? Why would the portal take us here?”

Quentin struggled inside his other body. Memories of his last visit flooded him as he felt an all too familiar lump in his throat. His dad. The Monster. The model planes. 

“It’s remote enough for us to hide. But Julia and Penny…” Once again, Quentin was snapped back by his own voice, but he noticed the pain in it. ‘He’ ,too, was struggling.

“They’ll be fine, Quentin. She’ll be fine. Penny is better that any portal could ever be,” Eliot said, squeezing his hand. QuentinX squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back a small whimper and failing.

“On that note,” Margo interrupted hastily, “we need to cast those spells.”

“Wait! If we cast the anti-tracking spells now, Penny and Julia won’t be able to find us!”

QuentinX whipped his head around to face her and grabbed her hands. It only gave Quentin a few seconds to take a proper look at the Other Margo for the first time. The same, round, dark brown eyes he knew and loved looked back at him. But something was notably amiss. 

_Oh my god she has a bob. Margo with a bob. Cannot unsee._

“Listen, Quentin. I love you and you know it. But if you wanna risk a Magician-hunting taskforce finding us...I’m sorry but I’ll make you cast if I have to!”

“Margo!” Eliot snapped, holding his arm up between Margo and Quentin.

“What? Are you willing to risk it? I’m not, just to be clear. I do value my life, despite of how recklessly I live it, okay?”

_Accurate._

“Just--Just give them a few minutes! Please!” QuentinX begged and shook Margo’s hands.

The ringing coming from the house’s landline startled them all. Exchanging looks in silence, QuentinX walked toward it and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Quentin! Is that you?” 

Another familiar voice.

“Alice? Where are you?”

Quentin had almost forgotten about her. She would have been at Brakebills, too. Were they even friends in that timeline? Were they ever more than that? He wanted to know.

“The portal took me pretty far away. I’ll probably be here a while,” Alice continued through the phone, voice shaking.

“Where-”

“Listen to me. I barely got out of Brakebills! And I saw,” she paused and the sound of a long exhale came through the line. “I saw Dean Fogg being taken. Quentin they took him.”

“Fuck!” QuentinX shouted. His hand fell on the kitchen table with force, as his friends came closer. 

“What? What is it?” one of them asked but Quentin couldn’t tell who.

“Look, cast that spell and lay low. We’ll regroup as soon as possible.”

“But Alice-”

The line was dropped, similarly to Quentin’s stomach. He had a terrible feeling about everything that was happening. Someone was hunting Magicians, his friends were on the run and Fogg had been capture, whatever that even meant. As everyone in the room stood there in silence for a moment, Quentin wondered what could have possibly happened to have brought all this upon them. What of the Beast? What of Fillory? How far did this timeline deviate from his own? Jane had told him his life there was very different but this was not what he had expected it to be like. Not in the slightest.

“Alice Quinn? She ok?” Eliot asked as QuentinX lowered the old telephone’s handset.

“Yeah. But she can’t get here. I don’t know where she is.” He rubbed his palm across his face and sighed deeply. “They took Dean Fogg.”

“Jiminy fucking Christ,” Margo exclaimed, spinned on her heels and began pacing around the room.

“We should cast those spells.” QuentinX spoke this time, earning puzzled looks from both of his friends.

“Are you sure?” Eliot questioned. Concern and affection glowed in his eyes as he approached him. Quentin knew this wasn’t the right time to dwell on things like Eliot’s eyes but he couldn’t help it. For a split second he focused on this Eliot’s face and the underlying emotion behind it. Oh, how he missed his Eliot.

“Yes, he is!”

Margo’s words were almost interrupted by a small gust of wind and a very familiar face that materialised next to them.

“Penny! What--wait. Where’s Julia?”

Penny Adiyodi dropped on his knees the second he appeared. Breathing heavily, he reached out to them and they hurried to help him up. He looked exhausted, almost like he’d run through hell and back. Literally. His usual rugged-chic clothes where singed and soot covered him almost entirely from head to toe.

“I tried to find her but she wasn’t on campus. Fuck, Quentin I don’t know,” he explained between short breaths and coughing.

“D-Did you look at the library? Was there a fire? She was there when-”

 

“Quentin, the whole building was brought down. She was not there. Maybe she got away. Fuck. I-”

Margo took a cloth from the kitchen table and tried to wipe Penny’s face clean from most of the dark dust. He welcomed the gesture but eventually took the cloth away from her to continue himself. Margo left him to it and drew the chairs out of the table, beckoning everyone to sit.

“Cast the spells,” she ordered, taking something out of her pocket. “We have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hello. Long time no post.  
> I have been trying to recover from that finale ever since it aired. It's been challenging. Creatively, it took a huge toll on me and I haven't managed to make any art or write any fanfic about the Magicians. This fanfic in particular was not easy for me to update, mostly because of how close to home this hits after that shit that happened in that finale. This fic--without trying to spoil anything for anyone still reading this crap--is all about empowering Q and helping him realize the strength inside himself. Some chapters are particularily triggering for me to even think about, let alone write and post. But I'm here. I'm mostly just angry about everything right now and trying to move forward by completing this fic. I'm also doing the Hallmark thingy on tumbl but as an artist :)
> 
> Thank you for sticking around and hello to all new readers. As always, let me know what you thought in the comments and don't hesitate to say hi on my SM :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr/insta: tiamaleficaart/tia_malefica.art  
> Find me on Twitter: ChibiInfinity


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